the Presleys

chapter 18 - 1954

CECE MARTIN

PART 1

"It'd be great if you could make it, Tilly— yeah, I know, I know.", I sighed, twirling the telephone cord around my finger. "Talk to Naomi, I-I know daddy won't let ya."

"Cece! Mind helping me with my hair?", I heard Elvis call from the bathroom, making me roll my eyes.

"Listen, I gotta go—"

"No way. Was that Elvis?"

"Alright, Tilly, talk to your mama and say hi to everyone, 'kay? Love ya.", I hung up and laughed a little. It always brought me peace talking to Matilda on the phone. She was busy working at the little flower shop down her house and as a babysitter most nights. Whenever we had a couple of minutes for ourselves, we phoned each other and shared recent events in our lives.

"Cece Flora Martin—"

I laughed at his words and finally stood up from the couch, walking towards the bathroom.

"Elvis Aaron Presley—", I started saying, though at the sight before me, the words were stuck in my throat. "Good lord, E. What the hell are you doing with your daddy's shoe polish?", I leaned against the doorframe, my arms crossed on my chest as I stared at him with a teasing smile.

"Quit laughing and help me out, honey.", he looked at me and then motioned at his hands covered in the liquid. I pushed myself off the doorframe and approached him, shaking my head in disbelief.

"I miss blonde you.", I said, pushing him by the shoulders so that he could take a seat on the closed toilet.

"Tell me mama didn't show ya that photo album— Of course she did.", I nodded and grabbed the small container with the polish.

"I'm afraid your hair is gonna fall out, E.", I said, trying to catch a glimpse of the faded label. "This is meant for shoes after all."

Elvis waved me off. "Ain't the first time I'm doing this mama, 's all good.", he gave a small, sarcastic smile, making me slap the side of his head.

"Hey—"

"You're ruining your hair with paint and I'm helping you.", I shook my head. "I can't believe myself.", I gave up and took out some of the polish, spreading it on my fingers. I massaged Elvis' wet hair with the liquid and soon felt his forehead dip on my chest.

"I'm tired, honey.", he immediately justified his action, making me roll my eyes with a small smile.

"You ain't tired. You woke up two hours ago."

"Still. All the rehearsing is draining me."

"You mean all your confrontations with Scotty? Because I know you, E, and there ain't no way that making music is draining you.", I said and pulled away to wash my hands.

"Scotty is a little shit—"

"Elvis."

"—that needs to be put in his place sometimes.", I raised an eyebrow at his words. "Wha'?"

I grasped a brush and started brushing Elvis' hair. "He's your friend and we're in a band.", I tapped his nose, making him scrunch it.

"And you still haven't broken up with him.", he said, looking me in the eye.

I shook my head a little. "I don't think I should be making life changing decisions before the Louisiana Hayride.", I brought the brush under the running water and cleaned it as best as I could.